After feeding the baby, Xavier Foster changed his clothes and carried the child downstairs to Xu Yan.

The elderly family members were having breakfast downstairs. When they saw him, one of them asked, "Is Cecilia up yet?"

Feeling inexplicably guilty, Xavier Foster answered, "Yes, she's awake. I just fed the baby. We're heading out today."

Not wanting to say more, he quickly hurried back upstairs. On the bed, Cecilia had just put on her pajamas. She massaged her sore waist, feeling the lingering aches from... places she dared not mention.

Her husband, starved for a whole year, had been making up for every lost moment last night.

She lowered her head, letting out a soft, embarrassed hum, and clenched her small fists. Next time, she mustn't let him off so easily.

Xavier Foster opened the door and walked in, scooping her—blanket and all—into his arms, and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Baby, does your waist hurt?"

The culprit had a clear conscience as he reached out to massage her slender waist.

"Xavier Foster!" Cecilia looked up at him, calling his full name.

"Hm?"

"You... next time, you can't last that long!"

Despite her fierce tone, paired with her pretty little face, it wasn't the least bit intimidating—in fact, it was adorably helpless.

Xavier Foster struggled not to laugh. "But, baby, it's not exactly something I can control..."

"...You."

Like a kitten, she reached out her tiny hand, intending to pinch his cheek, her brows furrowed in mock anger.

"Alright, alright, next time I'll be quicker," he said, catching her hand and promising helplessly.

Not that it mattered—his little sweetheart would surely forget by next time anyway.

"When I say stop, you stop; when I say once, it's once. You'd better keep your word."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, gazing at her blushing face, practically glowing with happiness.

"Whatever you say, my wife is always right."

Cecilia finally let him off the hook. "Help me up. I need to get changed."

"Of course." Dutifully, he pulled her up, and Cecilia went to the bathroom to wash up.

"Baby, which outfit do you want to wear today?"

Cecilia, brushing her teeth, poked her foamy head out and said unclearly, "Aren't we going somewhere? You pick for me."

"Alright, just make sure to brush properly."

Their bedroom was huge. Even with a walk-in closet, they'd set up a whole wall of wardrobes for convenience, all stocked with the latest autumn fashions—a lot of it brand-new.

Xavier Foster scanned the options and picked out a white fishtail dress and a fitted black top with a slight high neck—perfect for covering the little 'hickeys' on Cecilia's neck. Otherwise, she'd be upset again.

Lately, Cecilia seemed to be getting angry more often, and Xavier Foster was strangely satisfied by it. Angry Cecilia was adorable—he loved when she let all her feelings show, just for him.

He also grabbed a soft, ocean-blue cardigan to keep her warm, and laid the chosen outfit on the bed.

Cecilia finished washing up and changed clothes, spinning once in the mirror, clearly pleased.

Xavier Foster slipped his arms around her waist and dropped a light kiss. "You look beautiful."

After a quick breakfast, Xavier Foster drove them out himself.

The weather was perfect, the scenery flying by outside the window. Cecilia leaned against the glass, watching the world, her long lashes like little velvet fans.

"Zhiye, where are we going?"

Since they'd be there soon anyway, Xavier Foster answered, "Didn't you say you wanted to open an art studio? I've already prepared one for you near the company. It's very close by, and if you go the other way, it's right near the art academy. The girls that came last time can join you to paint too."

Back in the hospital, Cecilia had mentioned wanting an art studio, so he’d had Henry Hart look for locations. After checking out a few, he picked the spot himself. It had taken more than two weeks to settle on it.

It was close to his company, making it easy for them to have lunch together or for him to pick her up after work. It was also just a short distance from the art academy.

Cecilia turned her head, almost unable to believe it, her eyes shining with delight. "Really? An art studio...?"

"Mm."

Xavier Foster’s lips curled in a small smile as he glanced at her, his expression calm.

Cecilia was touched. She hadn’t expected that Zhiye remembered everything she said. Although she wanted an art studio, the baby was still little and needed care.

Plus, given the Fu family’s status in Beijing, it felt a bit inappropriate to be out in public running her own small art studio.

But Zhiye had arranged everything for her anyway. Suddenly she remembered the morning she’d nearly left Zhiye—she’d said she wanted a studio, and he’d told Henry Hart to look into it even then.

It seemed like from the very start, he’d always supported her doing what she loved, whether it was painting or anything else.

Cecilia's eyes turned red as she sniffled quietly.

"Hey now, no tears. If you cry, I’m going to tell Little Rice Cake that Mommy cried," he teased in the sing-song, doubled-words style he used to soothe their baby.

Cecilia stifled a laugh, fighting back tears. "I’m just really happy and really touched. I thought... I’d have to wait a long time, maybe until our baby was older, before I could think about an art studio."

"Why wait? Now is perfect. Little Rice Cake will grow up either way, and with the nanny around—and your mom loves spending time with him—you can go after what you love."

"Baby, I just want you to be happy."

Cecilia nodded earnestly. "I’m so happy. I promise I’ll take good care of Little Rice Cake, too."

"Uh-uh, no need. Take good care of your husband instead, will you?" Xavier Foster grinned, making a joke as he turned down a beautiful street. It was autumn; plane trees lined both sides, their golden leaves covering the ground.

On the other side of the street ran Donghu, Beijing’s largest lake. Sunlight shimmered on the waves.

Every storefront here was worth a fortune—quiet in the heart of the city. The art academy, a museum, and a sculpture hall were all nearby.

Xavier Foster stopped the car in front of a two-story Western-style house—the only white one on the street, making it especially eye-catching.

Henry Hart was waiting by the front door, along with Lao San (Old Third) and two young women.

Long-legged, Xavier Foster got out, circled the car, and opened the door for his wife.

Henry Hart stepped forward to greet them politely, "President, Madam."

Xavier Foster nodded, "Everything sorted?"

"Yes, it’s all ready. Anything extra can be adjusted after Madam looks it over."

Lao San drove the car away, grumbling silently—he’d sneaked a peek earlier, and figured he couldn’t even afford the bathroom in this house even if he sold himself.

Xavier Foster took Cecilia’s hand as they walked in together.

The two girls were employees Henry Hart had carefully chosen for the studio—reliable, around Madam’s age, and both students at the art academy. They were even self-proclaimed fans of Cecilia’s.

Right now they watched Cecilia with sparkling eyes from behind Henry Hart.

"Wow, Madam is so beautiful!" the long-haired girl exclaimed in awe.

"Finally, I get to meet Madam in person! I love her paintings from Shuiyun Studio so much," the other added emotionally.

Henry Hart didn't interrupt the girls’ innocent praise—after all, the boss had said it was good to have lively girls around Madam, to keep her happy.

"Mr. He," one of the girls asked, "can we get Madam’s autograph later?"

Henry Hart chuckled, shaking his head. "You two are going to be working here now. You can ask anytime you want."

With permission granted, the girls hugged each other, overjoyed.